CHAPTER
16

“MILES?”

O’Brien put down the hydrospanner and crawled out of the circuit junction. His face and hands were smeared with dirt and perspiration. He stared bleary-eyed at Keiko’s concerned face.

“What is it?” The raspiness of his voice surprised him, although it shouldn’t have. He had been staying in communication with his people, talking constantly, cross-checking relays and the timing of everything that was being done.

Keiko was standing there, looking a little intimidated by the two security guards posted on either side of the hallway, keeping a watchful eye out. She held a small cup out to him. “Rice tea?” she said.

Genuinely touched, he thanked her and took the cup. He sipped the tea, and the warmth down his throat helped lift his spirits.

“You’ve been working so hard, and I just . . . I wanted to do something for you.” She glanced around. “It seems there are security teams everywhere these days.”

He nodded. “Odo has got them stretched to the limit. Apparently I’m one of the key figures they want to guard.”

“You’re one of the key targets, you mean,” she said.

Again he nodded, this time a bit more reluctantly.

“Yeah,” he allowed. “That’s one way of looking at it.” Then he paused and said, “Keiko . . . remember when Molly was born?”

The switch in subjects confused her. “What? Uh . . . yes, of course. I was there, after all.”

“And where were you, precisely?”

The guards, looking suspicious, glanced at each other and then at Keiko.

Her face was the picture of confusion. “What?” And then she understood. She laughed a bit sadly. “Oh. Of course. I was in Ten-Forward, Miles. And Worf delivered Molly.” Dropping her voice to approximate Worf’s deep timbre, she said, ‘You may now give birth.’ ”

“Ah, I knew it was really you all the time,” he said, taking another sip of tea. And the guards relaxed somewhat. “Now remember . . . when you’re in our quarters, you keep that phaser I gave you handy. And make sure it stays fully charged at all times.”

“Yes, Miles. And you be careful.”

“Of course.” Then he lowered his voice so that the guards could not hear. “You know, up in Ops, we were discussing the possibility of evacuating people. And I said . . . ”

She looked at him questioningly. “You said what?”

“I said that I wouldn’t run under any circumstances and that you wouldn’t want to leave if it meant leaving me behind. Was I . . . ” He hesitated. “Was I wrong to tell them that? Would you want to leave, given the opportunity?”

“Leave?” She made a gesture that seemed to encompass the entire space station. “And give up all this? Don’t be silly.”

She kissed him briskly and headed back down the hallway. And as she left, O’Brien heard Odo’s voice, with its usual fusion of amusement and contempt. “Things improving on the homefront, Chief O’Brien?”

O’Brien looked up, but before he could respond, the security guards tensed. Odo, however, said briskly, “Gamma zed alpha.”

The guards promptly responded, “Alpha omicron delta.”

“Passwords?” asked O’Brien.

“No, O’Brien, we’re studying for a quiz on the Greek alphabet,” replied Odo sarcastically.

“Here.” O’Brien pushed the remaining rice tea at Odo. “This might put you in a better mood.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” He started to climb back up into the juncture point, then stopped and looked at Odo. “Tell me something. That card trick I did . . . I was certain I was holding up the card you picked.”

“You were,” said Odo.

O’Brien gaped. “But . . . but you said it wasn’t—”

“No. You said, ‘Is this your card?’ It wasn’t. It was your card. It was your deck. It wouldn’t have been appropriate for me to claim that it was mine when I didn’t own it.”

O’Brien moaned. “And here I’ve been going crazy trying to figure out what I did wrong! I was going to go back to working on my sleight of hand.”

“Face it, O’Brien. Magic isn’t your forte.”

“But I really want to entertain Molly at her party.” He looked hopefully at Odo. “You know, Odo, with your abilities, I bet Molly would love it if you’d consider—”

“I don’t do children’s parties, O’Brien,” Odo said. “I’m not that wild about human children.”

“Or human adults,” said O’Brien.

“Yes, well, that goes without saying.”

Odo’s comm badge beeped, and he tapped it. “Yes?”

“Bashir to Security.” The doctor sounded haunted, horrified. “Odo . . . there’s—”

He didn’t even have to complete the statement. “Where are you, Doctor?” Odo said quickly.

“Infirmary.”

“On my way.” Odo turned quickly to O’Brien and said, “You may want to hurry with that, Chief. Matters do not seem to be improving.”

 

Azira stood outside her husband’s cell, clutching her son’s hand as if afraid that he might vanish into thin air.

“Do you believe this outrage, my wife?” Mas Marko appeared not to know whether to be angry or amused. “Do you see what they have done?”

“You . . . ” She paused.

“Yes?”

“Well, they probably felt they had no choice once the Holy War vessel appeared.”

“That may very well have been my undoing,” said Mas Marko. “The rightness of my act seemed so clear to me that it did not occur to me that they would take retaliatory action. How pathetic I must look. You are fortunate, my wife, that they have not imprisoned you as well.”

“I have taken no action against them,” she said. “If they do not perceive me as a threat, they will not punish me.”

“Then do nothing to alter your status, Azira,” said Mas Marko firmly. “I shall be free presently, I have no doubt. The Zealous will try to make contact if it does not hear from me soon. When they are unable to reach me, they will demand answers from Commander Sisko. I suspect the commander of the Zealous will not be pleased with the answers he gets, at which point Sisko will be faced with a decision: either he can release me or he can experience the terminal ordeal of having his station blown asunder. I think the choice will be fairly obvious, don’t you?”

“As you say.” She nodded deferentially.

“And you, Rasa,” said Mas Marko. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, Father.”

“Good. Good lad.” He looked up at Azira. “You know, I think the boy is starting to look healthier. By K’olkr, I swear it’s so. Don’t you think?”

“As you say.” Again she spoke in that distant, even neutral fashion.

“Well, then.” He clapped his hands briskly. “Carry on spreading the word of K’olkr. I shall join you before too long, I assure you.”

“Marko . . . ” She seemed hesitant, and then she drew herself up straight. “I just want you to know . . . I love you, and I have nothing but respect for you. Whatever happens, that will never change.”

She was standing just on the other side of the forcefield. He regarded her with curiosity and rose to face her. “It goes without saying, Azira, that I feel the same way about you.”

“I know. I know it does. Nevertheless, some things that go without saying should be said anyway.”

She turned away from him and walked off down the corridor, leaving him thoughtful and just a bit uneasy.

 

Odo stared in quiet fury at the remains of Nurse Latasa and the message on the wall.

Kira was there as well, having been sent by Sisko to oversee matters and report back. She watched Odo’s reaction carefully as the security chief stalked the area, clearly hoping against hope that somehow, some way, the shapeshifter might reveal itself.

It did not, of course. The odds were excellent that it was nowhere around.

Bashir was seated, looking dazed and nauseated. “Just . . . just a little while ago I saw Latasa.” His voice sounded ragged. “Why her? Why not me? I was the one who interfered with him earlier. Why?”

“This is just one more confirmation that there’s no rhyme or reason to these killings,” said Kira. “The metamorph doesn’t care that you interfered. He kills whoever he feels like killing.”

“Yes,” Odo said testily. “Yes, remind me of that, Major. Remind me that he does whatever the hell he wants!” And he slammed his fist into the bloodied wall.

Kira and the security guards stared at Odo in shock—partly because of their surprise at his totally unexpected, uncharacteristic outburst, and partly because his fist had flattened on impact, giving him what looked like an anvil at the end of his wrist.

Odo stared at it for a moment as if it belonged to someone else entirely. Then, after a moment’s concentration, the fingers grew out and extended once more. He wiggled them experimentally. “You saw nothing, Doctor?” he asked, sounding rather conversational.

“Oh, I saw plenty, Mr. Odo,” said Bashir grimly. “I saw the nonfunctioning medical computer, the one that’s gone now. The original one turned up in a storage closet. The shapeshifter was hiding here—right here, disguised as the med computer.”

“Sweep the room,” said Odo quickly. “Make sure it’s not still . . . he’s not still here.”

Kira saw the pained expression on his face at the slip. Odo said nothing further, but now merely stood with his arms folded, waiting for his men to give him the response that he knew, instinctively, would come—namely that they were alone there in the infirmary.

“Nothing, sir,” Meyer said at length. “Nothing alive here that shouldn’t be alive.”

Odo was about to ask Bashir to perform an autopsy but quickly thought better of it. It was unlikely that an autopsy would tell them anything they didn’t already know, and besides, Bashir hardly looked in shape to start going over the young woman to determine at what point precisely, during her last agonizing moments, she had died. That could wait.

He communicated as much to Kira, and quickly she agreed. “We’ll have the body put in stasis,” she said, “and have maintenance come in and clean up the . . . the remains.” She felt sickened. “Gods, this is a nightmare. Just a nightmare.”

“I wish it were,” said Odo. “Then I’d hold out a hope of waking up.”

Still flexing his fist, he walked out of the infirmary.

 

“This is an outrage!”

Sisko was gazing at the angry face of Mencar, the Edemian commander of the Zealous. The ship had finally contacted them, presumably, Sisko figured, because they had not heard from their fearless leader. Security had checked Mas Marko quite thoroughly and had indeed uncovered a communications device on him. To play it safe they had inspected the other Edemians as well but found nothing. That didn’t surprise Sisko at all; it was typical of an individual like Marko to maintain himself as the sole source of communication with the home troops.

This is not my first outrage of the day, and it probably won’t be my last, thought Sisko. Out loud he said, “I am sorry you are outraged. You are, however, in Bajoran space. Your presence is not welcome, and you would be well advised to leave.”

“And you,” said Mencar, “would be well advised to let us communicate with our Mas immediately.”

“Your Mas,” said Sisko, “is otherwise occupied. It is in your best interest to take no actions that could jeopardize his welfare.”

“Are you threatening us, Commander?”

“We are not the ones who are trespassing and loaded down with weaponry,” Sisko reminded him. “We’re simply a space station, Mencar. We’re not in a position to force you to leave. We can, however, keep your Mas under wraps until you are prepared to discuss matters in a civilized manner.”

“Lobb was of my family,” said Mencar angrily. “We were first cousins. We grew up together. He was the youngest member of the family, and the joy he took in the simplest of things was a constant source of pleasure to us.”

“I grieve for your loss,” Sisko said formally.

“We want his killer! He must face Edemian justice!”

“Mencar, we are wasting your time and mine. When we have something to report, you will be among the first to know. Until then kindly let us do our jobs. Sisko out.” The screen went blank even as Mencar was opening his mouth to continue the conversation.

“It would seem that we have a problem,” said Dax.

“I’ll put it on my list.”

Dax suddenly looked up from her sensor array. “Benjamin,” she said warningly, “we’re picking up another arrival. It’s . . . ” She paused. “Oh, dear. It’s a Cardassian warship. At three eight one mark four.”

“On screen,” said Sisko, sighing heavily. “Let’s see it.”

The viewscreen shifted, and sure enough, there was a Cardassian ship, big as life. Bigger, in fact. The vessel looked large enough to blast Deep Space Nine to pieces just by having everyone on board sneeze in the station’s direction.

“They’re hailing us, sir.”

“This is Commander Sisko. How may we be of service?” he asked, trying to sound casual. He wanted to give the impression that fully armed Cardassian ships dropped by all the time.

An image appeared on the viewscreen. It was a very familiar image—of someone Sisko had spoken with not all that long before.

“Greetings, Sisko,” said Gul Dukat. “It’s been far too long since we’ve gotten together.”

“Ah. I see,” Sisko replied. “This would be a simple social call, then. Quite a formidable ship to come calling in.”

Gul Dukat looked around as if noticing the ship for the first time. “Yes,” he said with a tinge of pride. “It is rather formidable, isn’t it? This is the Ravage, pride of the second order. Enough firepower to knock a class-G star out of position.” He smiled pleasantly.

“A pleasant exaggeration,” said Sisko.

“Let us all hope so. You have other company as well, I see, besides the various ships that presently festoon the docking ring.”

“If you are referring to the Edemian ship Zealous, yes.”

“And their concerns are . . . ?”

“Theirs.”

“Ah.” Gul Dukat nodded. “Very well. And our concerns are ours. It has been some time since we spoke, Commander. Gotto is long dead, but his spirit is screaming for vengeance.”

“We are working on finding his killer,” said Sisko. “If you wish, you can come here and we can discuss the investigation.”

“Oh . . . I do not think so, Commander,” Dukat said easily. “I have no personal desire to be added to your list of deceased Cardassians. Nor, should difficulties arise, do I wish to be a guest of Deep Space Nine, as Mas Marko and the other Edemians are. That could conceivably hamper the Ravage in doing its duty.”

“You tapped into Edemian ship’s transmissions,” said Sisko.

“Quite so.” Then the Cardassian’s voice hardened ever so slightly. “We want Gotto’s murderer.”

“So do we,” Sisko assured him. “And we will find him. We’re in the process of . . . ”

Dukat held up a hand and made a dismissive wave. “Do not bother to cite chapter and verse for me, Commander. Perhaps you find the details interesting, but I assure you that I do not. No . . . we Cardassians are interested only in the bottom line. The when, as in when you will capture him. And the how, as in how do you plan to deliver him to us?”

“We can’t put a timetable on our operations,” said Sisko.

“Well, now, that’s the difference between us, Commander. I can. Specifically . . . if we don’t have the murderer here, in our hands, within six hours . . . we will come over there in force. In large force. We will take over the operation and, if necessary, the entire station. It was ours, you know. You’re there merely at our sufferance.”

“I don’t exactly read it the same way. Nor do I advise you to attempt a hostile boarding.”

“Why not?” Gul Dukat looked rather puzzled by Sisko’s statement. “You have . . . what? Fifty Starfleet personnel there? Sixty at most? Twice that number of Bajorans, perhaps? Commander, we have enough Cardassians on this vessel to send in two of our people for every one of yours and still keep the Ravage fully armed. I do not suggest you cross us in this matter. You and I have had such an enjoyable relationship thus far, Commander. I would hate to see it come to an end. Particularly a bloody end.”

He smiled once more in a manner that gave Sisko chills, and then the picture disappeared.

There was silence in Ops for a moment.

“Benjamin . . . would you like me to say I committed the murders?” asked Dax.

He looked at Dax mirthlessly. “I’ll keep that in mind as a last resort, old man. Thank you.”